Viva Las Vegas
by Angela6257
Summary: Something is seriously wrong in the City of Sin...
1. Viva Las Vegas 1/5

TITLE: Viva Las Vegas  
SPOILERS: This is an alternate take on what might have happened pre-Epiphany.  
DISCLAIMERS: Joss owns all, I own nothing! I'm just borrowing them for a teensy bit.  
  
* * * * * * *   
  
Would things ever be the same again?  
  
I watched her, wondering if she'd ever forget. Ever truly forgive me. Sure, I'd come to my senses. Eventually. But all the rehiring in the world wouldn't fix what I'd done. I could see it in her eyes when she wasn't aware I was looking. See the pain, the sense of hurt that still hadn't gone away. That *I* had caused.  
  
After all, I'd fired her.  
  
* * * * * * *   
  
Would things ever be the same again?  
  
Oh sure, I joke around, make the occasional Queen C comment. But it's hard to forget, hard to just go on like nothing had happened. I want to. God knows I want to. I want it to be like it was before, when things were so...easy. But with all the goodwill in the world and a considerable dollop of acting skill, I couldn't pretend like nothing had happened. Because something had certainly happened.  
  
He'd fired me.  
  
* * * * * * *   
  
I was relieved when the door opened. Maybe a case will help take her mind off things,I thought, help us all get back to the group dynamic we'd had before. We'd been more than just colleagues, more than people who came together for the sake of the case.   
  
We'd been a family.   
  
I was surprised at how much I missed that, surprised at how used to my 'family' I'd gotten. I'd always been careful to avoid those kind of connections. Someone you care about is someone who can be used against you. Not to mention that it's hard to maintain relationships when you're immortal.  
  
"Angel...*so* good to see you." The Host, as always, spoke in the genially affectionate tones of a true lounge lizard.  
  
"A little unexpected to see you." I rose to greet him, walking past the front desk and meeting him in the center of the room.   
  
"Truth is, I don't get out much." He shook my hand, smiling.   
  
"If you're expecting a free concert..."  
  
He laughed. "No, much as I enjoy your particular...song stylings, that's not why I'm here." He paused for a moment. There was silence behind me, and I knew Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn were all listening. "Actually, I have a job for you."  
  
"A job?" I gestured towards one of the sofas set around the former lobby. The other three came forward and joined us. "What sort of job?"  
  
"It's a long story, and it would probably be easier for him to explain." He turned and motioned towards the door. His companion, a man I'd not noticed, moved towards us slowly and, it seemed to me, reluctantly. Correction, I thought to myself. Not a man. Not quite.  
  
"I'm not sure I should be here," said the stranger, glancing behind uneasily.  
  
"Of course you should," said Cordelia warmly. I suppressed a smile. The man was dressed in tailor-made clothing and had that indefinable air that says "money". Which explained her current friendliness. Trust Cordelia to make sure the paying customers, especially the well-paying ones, were treated well. "I'm sure we can help you. Please, won't you sit down?"   
  
The stranger sat down gingerly on the couch, still looking at us warily. "I'm not supposed to talk about this. No one is. If they find out, I'll be fired. But something's gotta be done." He sat back, still wearing his jacket. "I'm a pit boss at the..at a well known casino in Vegas. One of the best. I've been in the business for more than 50 years."  
  
The others looked at him closely. He appeared to be no more than 30, so his statement would have surprised me if I hadn't sensed he was at least half demon.  
  
"But lately...something weird's goin' on. Something I can't explain." He laughed shortly. "And believe me, in 50 years I thought I'd seen it all."  
  
* * * * * * *   
  
I watched carefully as the man spoke. Angel would probably say that I was evaluating his net worth, but he'd be wrong.  
  
Of course, if during the course of trying to gauge whether or not the client was going to be a danger to us, I happened to cast the occasional considering eye over his clothes and/or potential ability to pay his bill, then..well..that was just keeping an eye on the business, so to speak.  
  
"I noticed it a few months ago," the man was saying. "Some of the girls started acting...nervous. Apprehensive before they went on shift. Croupiers, cocktail waitresses, cashiers...didn't matter what line of work they were in, really. If they were young and pretty, and most of the girls in the business are, then they started acting funny. I couldn't get any of them to admit anything was wrong, but I could tell."  
  
He shifted uneasily in his chair. "I started asking questions, trying to see if there was anything I could put a finger on. That was when I got the first warning."  
  
"Warning?" Angel shifted in his seat, and my eyes went to him. He looked...comfortable, I suppose. Content. [Why shouldn't he? He got everything just the way he wanted.] I thrust the negative thought away. "What kind of warning?"  
  
The man shrugged uncomfortably. "Called up to see the big bosses. I was told in no uncertain terms to leave it alone. That no one would be hurt, unless I continued to stick my nose where it didn't belong. I did as I was told, stopped asking questions. That should have been it. Should have been enough."  
  
"But it wasn't." Wesley wasn't asking a question. "What happened?"  
  
"Girls started disappearing." The man's face contorted, then smoothed out slowly. "Started with a cashier one night, then one of the high rollers' old ladies. And then...then it was Lyddie."  
  
He was silent a moment. No one spoke, asked him to clarify, because it was obvious that this "Lyddie" had been different. After a moment, he continued, his voice husky.  
  
"She was a cocktail waitress. Not one of the usual kind, either. She was in college, working on pre-law at UNLV. She was going to be somebody. She had...had a little girl. Some loser left her holding the bag when she was just 18, and she managed to hold it altogether. How many 18 year olds do you know who could raise a kid, hold down a full time job and go to college?" I found myself feeling more than a little sympathetic towards the unknown Lyddie. I knew what it was like being out there on your own, scared, unsure of what to do. I couldn't even imagine what it was like doing all that with a child to raise.  
  
And no, being pregnant with demon septuplets did NOT count.  
  
* * * * * * *   
  
The man was silent again, and I looked at the others. Wesley and Gunn were both watching the man closely, and Cordelia...the expression on her face was hard to define.  
  
That was something new, too. Before all this had happened, before I had my big return-to-evil episode, I'd always known Cordelia, always been able to read her every mood clearly by the expression on her face. But lately she was almost a stranger to me. Wesley and Gunn hadn't appeared to notice anything. In fact, the three of them had definitely bonded as a unit.  
  
And I didn't feel left out. Not a bit.  
  
But Cordelia...my relationship with her was special, had always been special. More so since she'd started having the visions. They were hard on her, and I hated watching her deal with the pain they caused, the physical and emotional toll they took on her. But at the same time, they'd created a deeper bond between us, strengthened the link that was already there. Until I screwed it up. Way to go, Einstein.  
  
And now was not the time to be having a sidebar conversation with myself.  
  
The man continued, but I didn't hear him, as something about Cordelia drew my attention. She looked the same, her expression carefully friendly as she faced the man, but I sensed...I could tell...  
  
"Vision.." she said suddenly, holding one hand up. We all sprang into action...Wesley heading for the kitchen for Advil and water, Gunn and I both hurrying to her side.  
  
Gunn got there first.  
  
He maneuvered himself behind her, propping her up with one arm and grasping her hand with the other. She leaned sideways a little, her head near his shoulder as she fought the vision, fought the pain and the emotions to get what information she could.  
  
I was left sitting to one side, holding her other hand. And that didn't bother me either. Nope, not one bit.  
  
Her face was contorted, a grimace twisting her features into something unfamiliar. Then she moaned a little and opened her eyes, breathing deeply. I let go of her hand slowly. She glanced at me once, almost a question on her face, then she turned to look at our potential client.  
  
"You're right," she said, taking the pills from Wesley, who'd returned from the kitchen. He moved to stand behind her, forming a protective circle along with Gunn and myself. She swallowed the painkillers before continuing. "There's something screwy going on at the...where you work." She looked at me, then at Wesley and Gunn. "It's something big and ugly. And I think it had horns."  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetcheeks," said the Host, speaking up suddenly. "That's quite a powerful little vibe you've got going on. Seems like the PTB laid a heavy number on you."  
  
"Oh yeah, and I'm so grateful," she said, sitting back a little. "'Cause it's just *so* much fun to have what amounts to a seizure with no warning whatsoever, causing me to double over while being struck with mind-numbing, migraine-inducing pain and sometimes even enjoying such pleasant side-effects as moaning and/or drooling and have I mentioned how grateful I am?"  
  
I had to smother a laugh. No, things might not ever be the same again.  
  
But it was nice to know some things never changed. 


	2. Viva Las Vegas 2/5

TITLE: Viva Las Vegas  
SPOILERS: This is an alternate take on what might have happened pre-Epiphany. I started writing it during the whole Beige Angel arc, so it differs quite a bit from the end of the season.  
DISCLAIMERS: Joss owns all, I own nothing! I'm just borrowing them for a teensy bit.  
  
  
There was a period of silence after my little rant, not even the Host making a comment. I stood up, startling everyone a little judging by the way they jumped. But I moved to the bathroom without pausing.  
  
God, where had all that come from? I mean, it's not like I'm thrilled to have the visions, no, but I certainly didn't *hate* them. That's what I did. Do. I'm Vision Girl.  
  
[Didn't stop you from getting fired.] I tried to brush the thought away. My visions hadn't been a part of that decision, but then again, neither had I. That had been Angel's deal, totally, his little walk on the dark side with his skanky blonde ho-Sire. He was over it, Wes and Gunn were over it, and I was over it, right?   
  
Yeah, riiiight.  
  
True, Wesley and Gunn and I were fine without him. Sure, things were a little harder without Mr. Super Vampire Strength to help handle the demon things. Sure, we'd had to work to establish our own contacts with the seamy side of LA.  
  
Sure, it'd been hard to have visions without him there to catch me. With Wesley and Gunn, nine times out of ten I ended up on my butt when the whammy hit me. But I didn't hold that against him.  
  
Would it be repetitive to use another 'yeah, riiiight' in this situation?  
  
But as I stood there looking in the mirror, I knew what the real cause for my lingering resentment was.  
  
The visions were for *him*. I'm his seer. The legacy left to me by Doyle was his little link to the PTB, and I'm nothing more than a conduit. I suffer the pain, the indignity, all the bad things so Mr. Tall Dark and Deadly can get the message, and he fired me. At that point in time, despite the visions, I was nothing more to him than Gunn and Wes were. An obstacle in his path, and one that he disposed of in the easiest way possible.  
  
He fired me.  
  
* * * * * *   
  
I paid little attention to the talk swirling around the room, the murmurs of the other men, as I watched for Cordelia to return. Was something wrong with her? Those damned visions, always causing her so much pain. What if she'd had another one? Fallen and hurt herself or something?  
  
I'd just gotten to my feet, about to follow her to wherever she'd gone, bust in on her, whatever it took to make sure she was okay, when she breezed back into the room. She cocked an eyebrow at me in that old "What the heck is up with *you*?" way, and I sat back down.  
  
"Okay, what's the what? We got a plan here?"   
  
"Not exactly," said Wesley, eyeing her as she sat down near him. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Fine," she said briefly, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I just needed to freshen up."  
  
I had to be satisfied with that, even though I knew there was more to it. Something was wrong, wrong with her or wrong with us or maybe just wrong with life in general. But I could see by the set of her shoulders that she was in I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it mode, and nothing and no one could force her to do it. Maybe later I could get her alone, try to persuade her to tell me what was wrong.  
  
Correction. I could have cursed myself again. That's what I could have done, before I made the colossal mistake of thinking that cutting her and the others out of my life was the best way to handle the situation. The only thing I could do now was watch, sitting on the outside with my nose pressed to the glass as she did the best she could to cope with what the PTB and I had handed her.  
  
I turned back to the others as Gunn spoke. "Speakin' of plans, shouldn't we gettin' around to makin' one?"  
  
"Why don't you tell us about the vision, Cordelia?" Wesley's voice was gentle as he spoke to her.  
  
"Not much to tell." She winced a little, and I couldn't tell if it was from lingering pain or what she'd seen. "There is something bad at the casino. Really bad. It's a demon-y thing, and not a vampire. Green, with horns, and lots and lots of teeth. Not much else I can tell you except we really have to get this one."  
  
"I suppose our first course of action would be to travel to this casino, begin making enquiries as to these mysterious disappearances.."  
  
The stranger was shaking his head before Wesley could even finish the sentence. "Nope. Can't do that. If the big bosses find out someone's asking around, everyone on the Strip will clam up before you even start. Whole thing'll move underground, and people will end up hurt. As in the no-longer-living kind of hurt. Probably starting with me."  
  
"Oh, come on, children. Isn't it obvious?" The Host was a little too jovial for my taste, his smile embracing us all. "You'll have to go undercover! I can see it all now... our little friend from overseas will be a faboo croupier, and Gunn, you just scream bouncer. Angel-kins, your role is a little more complicated. I think... high roller? Big money? And you, brown eyes," he turned to look at Cordelia, "why you'll be the pretty little cocktail waitress."  
  
"Oh no," she said, shaking her head. "There's no way I'm going to be demon-bait again. I've played that role once too often. More than once, actually. Nuh-uh. *Not* gonna happen."  
  
"Cordelia," I said, hesitant. "You're pretty much the only one that can."'  
  
"Oh really?" She stared at me, irritation in both eyes and voice. "And why am I the only one who can, huh? Why can't one of you guys play the helpless little lamb, just waiting on the big bad to grab 'em? This is the era of equal opportunity. Let's equal opportunity the demon-bait role!"  
  
"It's got to be a pretty girl, right?" The stranger nodded, and Gunn continued. "Not like one of us can do that. And girl, you know you got it goin' on. Once they get a gander at you, it's practically in the bag." She smiled a little at that.  
  
I was beginning to wish I'd never hired him in the first place.  
  
"I hesitate to mention it," said Wesley slowly, "but a venture of this magnitude is going to require a great deal of money. "  
  
"Already taken care of." The Host waved a hand at the door. "In fact, I'd say our own personal Daddy Warbucks is about to talk through the door."  
  
As if on cue, the door opened, and a cloaked figure walked in. How *does* he do that?  
  
"Greetings, fellow demon hunters and slayers of all things evil," called a familiar voice, and moments later David Nabbit's head popped out as he pushed the cloak's hood down. "How can I help you?"  
  
* * * * * *   
  
And just that easy it was decided. Well, easy in the sense that after I argued for a good half hour I finally gave in and agreed to be the cocktail waitress. It had taken Gunn, Wesley, and The Host all three to convince me, and I still wasn't completely sure it was the only viable plan. But since it was pretty much our only plan, I agreed.  
  
So here we are, piled into Angel's car and on our way to lovely Las Vegas. That stranger, the guy with the really good plastic surgeon, the one who originally brought the case to us, is already back at the casino, smoothing the way for us to take the assigned jobs.   
  
Oh, and setting up a penthouse suite for Diamond Jim Angel. David agreed to stake him enough of the green stuff that no one will ever guess he's not a real high roller, so he's going to be living the high life. I *still* think I was the logical one to play the high roller. Who else knows designer labels and five star restaurants better than I do? No one, of course! But since Angel would look pretty stupid in one of those short skirts, I guess I'm going to be waiting on tables and refilling drink glasses.  
  
Yeah, I was really looking forward to *this* case.  
  
Oh, and Mr. Mysterious, the guy who works at the casino? He refused to tell us his name, or anything about himself. The Host vouched for him, and so far everything he said is on the up-and-up.   
  
But I can't help thinking that there's something we missed about him, something in his background that we're going to need to know...  
  



	3. Viva Las Vegas 3/5

TITLE: Viva Las Vegas  
SPOILERS: This is an alternate take on what might have happened pre-Epiphany. I started writing it during the whole Beige Angel arc, so it differs quite a bit from the end of the season.  
DISCLAIMERS: Joss owns all, I own nothing! I'm just borrowing them for a teensy bit.  
  
I forced a smile for the thousandth time that evening. And when I say forced, I mean forced with every fiber of my being. It's pretty darned hard to stay perky when your feet are hurting because of the three inch stilts you've been wearing for four hours straight and your ass is black and blue from being pinched by every old goat who's had a few drinks and thinks he's God's gift to the world.  
  
But apparently this old goat couldn't tell the smile was forced. He brightened visibly when I smiled at him, and I gritted my teeth.  
  
I knew what was coming.  
  
"Hey, sweetheart.. I'm having a lucky streak here." He leered at me, leaning closer, and I cast a worried glance behind me. No high roller look alike anywhere in sight. So far, so good. "You wanna sit here with me for a while?"  
  
"Sorry." I kept the smile in place, aware of the pit boss in charge that night standing a few tables away. "Looks like this table is all full."  
  
"Thass okay." His speech deteriorated as his hopes rose. "You can sit right here." And with a tug, he pulled me down on his lap, then leaned close to my ear, his hot breath on my cheek. "I don' mind."  
  
"But I do." The voice was calm, but I could hear the potential for violence in it. I tried unsuccessfully to free myself. The man holding me turned to face Angel.  
  
"Hey, go fin' yer own girl. This one's mine." I could see that we'd attracted the pit boss's attention, and I glared at Angel. Another incident I *didn't* need. Not if he expected me to keep this job, as hellish as it was.  
  
Angel either didn't see my look or didn't care. He just kept staring at the drunk. "I'd say she disagrees. Let her go."  
  
"Now."  
  
Something in that too-calm tone must have gotten through to the man holding me because he finally let me go. I struggled to my feet and retrieved my tray from where it had fallen to the floor. Fortunately it was empty. I turned back to the customer with a smile, but he had already turned back to the game. "Sir, would you like a drink?"  
  
"No, I'm good." He was huffy now, and with an inner sigh I wished him a good evening and turned towards another table.  
  
My shadow followed me.  
  
"Angel," I hissed, having finally gotten tired of his interference. "Are you *trying* to screw this up for me?"  
  
"Screw it up?" He stared incredulously at me. "That guy grabbed you, Cordy. What did you expect me to do, just sit there and watch while he mauled you?"  
  
His voice had risen, so with a wary glance at the pit boss, I pulled him back behind several of the slot machines. The whirrs and dings that filled the place hid our conversation from all the customers.  
  
"No, I did *not* expect you to sit and watch that guy maul me."  
  
"Well, that's good, 'cause there's no way I'm gonna just sit there and do nothing while someone.."  
  
"What I expected you to do," I had to interrupt before he got started. I already knew what he was going to say anyway. "..was sit and watch while I took care of myself."  
  
He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes not quite meeting mine.   
  
"Do you not trust me? Do you think I can't do it?"  
  
"Of course not. That's not the point anyway." He still couldn't look me in the eye. "It's not that I don't trust you. It's just..."  
  
"Just what?" I had to fight to keep my own voice down now. "Just that as always you have to rush in and help poor helpless Cordy because she can't take care of herself. Don't bother to deny it. We've had this talk before. Several times. Same bat time, same bat channel. Look, I have a job to do here, and I don't mean serving drinks and fending off drunken pick-ups. There's a case here, you do remember that, right? Lyddie? All the other girls? If someone doesn't quit following me around and fighting my battles for me, I'm going to be fired. And that makes my usefulness as demon bait pretty null and void."   
  
Without giving him a chance to reply, I turned and headed back towards the bar to refill my tray.  
  
* * * * * *   
  
I watched her walk away, mostly because there was little else I could do. She was right. Deep down I knew that. She did have a function, a job to perform, and my interference was hindering her in that job.   
  
But there was something that *she* didn't understand. Something that none of them had understood. Something I wasn't really completely understanding myself. It's not like I planned on jumping up and going after the old guy who'd bothered her tonight. Or the two tourists who'd gotten a little overly familiar two hours previously. Or the convention-goer this afternoon, or the croupier last night or any of the other dozen or so jerks I'd scared off in the last five days. But there was just something about seeing those idiots try and.. and paw her, and take advantage of her. Hell, if I was honest just the sight of one of them putting their hands on her period was enough to set me off.  
  
This wasn't something new. Not exactly. Rescuing Cordelia was... well, I'd say it was an occupational hazard, except for the fact that it wasn't a hazard. More like a.. a bonus. A reward. There was that quick smile, warming her face and making her eyes glow. If I was lucky, I might even get a hug. And if said rescuing sometimes included some Cordy Comfort Time, hey, who was I to complain?  
  
But ever since the whole mess with Darla, there was something different about Cordelia. She seemed more independent now. More sure of herself, more in control of her own destiny. There was a new air of confidence about her, almost a new swing in her step.  
  
Problem was, there was something different about me too. I felt more protective of her than I ever had before. Every time I saw one of those jerks trying something with her, I wanted to rush right in where Angels fear to tread.  
  
And now I was making bad puns in my head. I sighed before craning my head, trying to see where she'd gone.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Freshly filled tray in hand, I began making my way through the tables once more. Angel was nowhere in sight, so maybe I'd be able to finish out a shift in peace.  
  
"Big money at roulette four. He's asking for you," one of the other cocktail waitresses whispered to me in passing, and I nodded to her before heading towards the table she'd mentioned. I caught Wes's eye as I manouevred my way through the blackjack tables. He'd been surprisingly adept at handling the cards, and he'd been moved up to one of the $25 tables pretty quickly. Made me wonder if he'd had his own "Ripper" days, in the grand tradition of Sunnydale's favorite Watcher.  
  
I finally reached the table in question, then stood to one side, waiting silently until the current round was complete. High rollers tended to tip better overall, but they were a lot pickier about their service, as I'd discovered my first night at the casino. Hey, how was I supposed to know setting a drink down in front of someone just as he hit on 4 to 1 odds wasn't a good idea? Besides, the casino agreed to clean his suit, so I really don't think it should have been *that* big a deal.  
  
Anyway... once the round was complete, and everyone had a chance to get their reactions out of the way, I slid in between two of the players, smiling at the table in general. I began serving drinks, trying to figure out which of the high rollers had asked for me. Jack, the croupier, made it easy for me. "And here's our Cordelia," he said in his charming Cockney accent which did NOT remind me of Spike at all.   
  
A very distinguished looking older man two people down from me nodded. "Just as pretty as you said, Jack. I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Cordelia."  
  
"Thank you, sir," I said demurely. "Would you like something to.. to..." And then it hit me.. that dart of pain like a spike through my forehead, the dizziness, the disorientation.. I managed to set the drink tray down on the table before both hands went to my head.  
  
Dammit, where was Angel? He'd shown up at all the most inconvenient times ever since we'd arrived in LA. Now that I needed him, he was nowhere in sight.  
  
But just as I went down, I felt strong arms close around me. [Thank goodness he caught me] was all I had time to think before the vision was on me.  
  
* * * * * *   
  
I tried to pay attention to the game, but it was hard when I couldn't see her. No brunette head bobbing around, no flash of irritation in those brown eyes when I tried once again to rescue her. Abruptly I got to my feet.   
  
"Sir, this hand isn't over yet.."  
  
"I'm out," I muttered, then headed off to find Cordelia.  
  
But after ten minutes of wandering through the casino, I had to admit defeat. She wasn't anywhere in sight, and I couldn't just stroll into the employee's area. So I did the next best thing.  
  
"Wesley, have you seen Cordelia?"  
  
"Really now, Angel, you're going to have to give the poor girl a break. She can hardly step six feet without you..'  
  
"Can it, Wes, this is serious." I leaned towards him. "I haven't seen her in quite a while, and she isn't scheduled for another break for at least an hour."  
  
"Are you sure? I mean, I know you've been watching her closely, but perhaps you missed her somewhere..."  
  
"She's gone, Wesley. I've been all over the casino and she's not anywhere in sight. We've got to find her."  
  
Something in my tone must have finally reached him. "I'll get Gunn. You keep looking."   
  
I nodded, and he walked off. But as I turned to face the casino again, I knew we weren't going to find her. She was gone. I could tell it somehow. Feel it almost.  
  
Where was Cordelia? 


	4. Viva Las Vegas 4/5

TITLE: Viva Las Vegas  
SPOILERS: This is an alternate take on what might have happened pre-Epiphany. I started writing it during the whole Beige Angel arc, so it differs quite a bit from the end of the season.  
DISCLAIMERS: Joss owns all, I own nothing! I'm just borrowing them for a teensy bit.  
  
Fortunately the vision was a short one. It was over in a matter of seconds, and the accompanying nausea-inducing, mind-breaking migraine wasn't as debilitating as it could have been.  
  
"That was a short one," I muttered, relaxing in the arms still holding me upright. "And relatively clear. I'm pretty sure I know where to find this girl."  
  
"Girl? Clear?" The voice was confused. And the accent was Cockney. And it was *not* Angel's. I turned around, only to find myself looking into calm blue eyes.  
  
Again, *not* Angel's.  
  
"Jack!" I said, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "What are you... how did I get here?"  
  
"That would be me, Princess." I winced a little at his use of Doyle's pet name for me. It had been a long time since I'd heard it. "You put the tray down, looked a little funny... then you started going down. I grabbed you, got Harrison to take my table, and brought you back here."  
  
I pushed myself away a little, freeing myself from his arms. He let me go, but kept a hand on my elbow, I guess to make sure I was steady on my feet. My surroundings were unfamiliar. It looked like one of the high roller lounges, but there was no one else there. And since the high roller lounges were usually pretty full, I used my well-honed powers of deduction to decide this wasn't one of them.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
Jack grinned at me, and I felt the first stirrings of uneasiness. We were all alone, and I didn't know where we were, and although the vision hadn't been as bad as it could have been, I was still a little shaky.  
  
"Someplace private." He didn't move, but I found myself taking a step back. "One of the lounges that's undergoing a little facelift." After he said it, I noticed some paint cans and tarps piled in one corner. "I wasn't sure what was going on, but I didn't figure you wanted to pass out in front of the payin' customers."  
  
"Thanks." I smiled weakly at him. "I'm feeling a lot better now. And I better get back to work, or Sam's going to dock me. I'm working high rollers tonight, and I can't afford to be gone long."  
  
"You sure, Princess? No offense, but you're not exactly lookin' your best." He cocked an eyebrow at me, still grinning, and I tried to tell myself he was just trying to be helpful. "What'd you do, skip a meal or three?" It wasn't uncommon for the cocktail waitresses to go without meals. The uniforms were pretty unforgiving in terms of weight, and any extra pounds were not only visible but made breathing a privilege. I'd heard rumors from the other girls about weigh-ins, but I'd never seen one myself.  
  
"Yeah, a couple." I shrugged a little. "You know how it goes. I ate out night before last, and I've been trying to make up for it."  
  
"Out with the high roller? He seems more than a little interested in you." I cursed Angel silently. I knew that people would notice when he played big brother. Especially when he played big brother with a thing for scaring off anyone who came within 10 feet of me. Not exactly Mr. Unobtrusive.  
  
"I've been out with him a couple of times." I shrugged again, trying for a casual tone. "Can't turn down a free meal. Even if you do have to skip a few afterwards." I knew that was the attitude most of the girls would take. Hopefully Jack would buy it.  
  
"Course you couldn't, Princess. What working girl would?" He smirked a little when I raised an eyebrow. "And by working, I mean just that. Working. So no need to get on your high horse." He back up a step, looking me over. "Even with those oh so lovely legs of yours."  
  
"Funny," I said shortly. "Look, I've really got to get back to work. You gonna show me how to get out of here or not?"  
  
+ + + + + +   
  
"Problem, Mr. Angel?" The pit boss approached me, a shit-eating grin on his face. I sighed inwardly, trying to tell myself that Cordelia was all right, and that I shouldn't blow the case looking for her.  
  
But it was hard. She was gone, hadn't been seen by Wes or Gunn or me in over half an hour now, and I wanted to tear the place apart until I found her. Screw my cover. She was more important.  
  
"Actually, I was looking for..." And that was when she reappeared. Her hair was mussed, disheveled, and that smarmy Cockney bastard was following her.  
  
They'd apparently been together.  
  
Alone.  
  
For half an hour.  
  
The pit boss coughed delicately. "Looking for...?"  
  
"Just looking." I turned to face him again, one eyebrow raised. "Is there something wrong with that?"  
  
"Of course not, Mr. Angel. If you want to look around, that's certainly okay. Would you like a guide? I'd be more than happy to act as..."  
  
"No. That's.. that's not necessary. I really just want a chance to wander around the place by myself. See what the average customer sees." Inwardly, I thanked David Nabbitt for staking this operation. Under the guise of a so-called "high roller", I'd been given pretty much free rein of the place. And I had enough money to throw around to back up the cover.  
  
Which lead to a lot of toadying by the locals. I used that to my advantage on occasion. This was definitely one of those occasions.  
  
"Is there a problem with that?"  
  
"Of course not. That's quite alright. Not an uncommon request from our most special clients. I'll just.. leave you to it then, shall I? But if there's anything.. anything at all.. you need, please don't hesitate to contact me or anyone else in our establishment. We're here to cater to your every need."  
  
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." I glanced over to where Cordelia was making her way through the tables, an empty tray in her hand. She'd managed to find it again and serve all the drinks, so that meant she'd be heading back for the bar again. She'd take about 3-4 minutes to refill the tray before heading out to the tables once more, so if I wanted to catch her, I needed to do it now.  
  
Not that I was keeping track of her or anything. Not anymore than Wes or Gunn anyway. I mean, we were a team, a family, and I was interested in every member of... Thinking of Wes and Gunn, I realized I hadn't seen them in some time.  
  
But right now my first priority was the brunette in the short skirt. The very short skirt. As I followed her back towards the bar, I took a good long look at her. She'd done more than her fair share of complaining about the uniform, but it certainly looked damn good on her.  
  
And when had she gotten those legs? The ones that went all the way up to... I shook my head. Now wasn't the time for contemplating Cordelia's charms.   
  
That could come later.  
  
I finally caught up to her just before she reached the bar. I grasped her elbow and pulled her behind a bank of video slot machines.  
  
"Angel," she hissed, turning to face me. "Good thing you showed up. I had a vision, and.."  
  
"And what.. you couldn't wait to find me or one of the guys?"  
  
"Wait?" She looked a little confused. "I didn't *wait* on anyone. Not like the visions keep to a regular schedule, you know. It just hit, and I..."  
  
"Just what? Let that smarmy British bastard put his hands on you?"  
  
She looked at me, totally mystified. "Angel, what is your damage? Vision hit with accompanying disorientation and/or dizziness, and Jack helped me out. That's.. that's all."  
  
+ + + + + +  
  
I didn't tell Angel the whole story. What was there to tell? That I'd gotten a weird vibe from Jack? That he didn't actually say or do anything threatening, but I'd felt threatened anyway? If I wanted to be taken seriously.. and I did, most definitely.. I had to have something a little more certain than a "weird vibe" to go on. So I glossed over my encounter with Jack and sent Angel after the girl in the vision. There was a little demonic mugging about to take place just outside the casino, and he was more than capable of handling it by himself.  
  
I couldn't be sure that he'd completely bought into the 'Jack just helped me out' story. He knew me well enough by now to tell when I wasn't telling the whole truth, and I'm pretty sure he sensed there was more than I was telling. But he didn't press me on it - thank God - and finally I got back to work.  
  
But I was aware of eyes following me around that night while I finished out my shift. Angel, of course. He'd been watching me since we got here, and I was used to that. But Jack's gaze fell on me more than once, and so did the high roller who'd originally asked about me. And while I did look pretty good in the uniform, and I knew the high heels did good things for my legs (in terms of looks - the things caused shin splints and blisters like you wouldn't believe), I didn't think it was my charms that were responsible.  
  
Whatever the case, I was pretty thankful when my shift ended. I made my way 'backstage' and to the ladies lounge, opened my locker with a weary sigh. And there, sitting on top of my street clothes and sneakers was a note. I looked around the empty lounge before I pulled it out and opened it.  
  
Cordelia,  
  
I really enjoyed our meal the other night, and was   
hoping to do it again. Would you care to meet me   
near the entrance of the Blue Lounge around 2 am?  
  
Angel  
  
  
I didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to know the note was a fake. Not only was it not in Angel's handwriting, we hadn't actually had dinner together. And since I'd only told one person the fake story, it was pretty easy to figure out who sent it. Was Jack the one? Was he responsible for all the disappearances?  
  
Making my way back to the employee area that joined the men's and women's lounges, I was lucky enough to find Wes waiting. I usually met him and Gunn there when our shifts ended. We were sharing a small aparment a couple miles away, and cab fare was outrageous in Vegas.  
  
"Check this out," I said, handing him the note. "It's a fake."  
  
"Obviously," said Wesley, taking a moment to read it. "But we shall have to follow up on it. I'll find Gunn and Angel, let them know what's happening. You can't be seen outside the lounge until it's time to make this appointment."  
  
"No problem," I said, "Just don't be late."  
  
"Be careful, Cordelia." Wesley peered at me through his glasses, concern for me etched on his face. I smiled reassuringly.  
  
"No worries there, Wes. Not looking to be a hero today."  
  
* * * * * *   
  
"You what?" I knew my voice was a little loud, but I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You told her she could go meet this creep?"   
  
"Angel, please stay calm. I've already told Gunn, and he's waiting near the lounge in question. She's perfectly safe, and..."  
  
I didn't wait to hear anymore. I hurried to the lounge, cursing Wesley and Gunn.. and Cordelia herself.. all the way. How dare they put her in that kind of danger? How dare she allow herself..? If anything happened to her, heads were gonna roll.  
  
Only, not literally. Although they could. If I wanted them to.  
  
But as I rounded the last set of slot machines, I could see Gunn and Cordelia standing there. Gunn had his arms crossed, and Cordelia was waggling her finger in some guy's face. The man, an older man, shorter than her by a good 6 inches, was backing away, and she was following him step by step. He finally turned and hurried away, nearly running me down in the process When I looked back at the others, they were both laughing uncontrollably. Slowing to a walk, I made my way to where they were standing.  
  
"False alarm," gurgled Cordelia. "It was just old man Henderson."  
  
"Just old man Henderson?" I kept my voice calm, not without effort.   
  
"Dirty old man, makes moves on the girls all the time." Gunn, still smiling, looked past me, I assume to where the man was still hurrying away. "He's a high roller so the bigwigs keep it on the down low. He's basically harmless."  
  
"Basically.. he's... you think.. *harmless*?..."   
  
Cordelia interrupted before I could get any more incoherent. "He overheard me talking to Jack. I had to tell him you took me out." She gave me a Look. "Had to say something to explain Mr. Master of Subtlety and his let's-scare-everyone-away-from-Cordy act."  
  
I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again. She was right. I knew it, Wes and Gunn knew it, and of course she knew it. But that didn't mean I had to admit it.  
  
"If your shift's over, you guys should go home. Get some rest." I looked at the others first, then fixed my gaze on Cordelia. She'd recovered from the vision, mostly, but she still looked a little pale. I knew Wesley would make sure she was okay, but I still didn't like not being there myself. "I'm going to make a few more rounds then call it a night myself."  
  
"We're not getting anywhere with this." Her voice was soft, troubled, "We haven't seen a sign of anything more ominous than dirty old men and the occasional card counter."  
  
"Don't worry about it anymore tonight." I relaxed a little, aware that some small part of me buried deep inside was glad there hadn't been anything overtly suspicious. I didn't want her in danger--didn't want any of them in danger, I corrected myself silently. "Let's meet tomorrow afternoon, put our heads together and see what we've got."  
  
"Fine," said Cordelia, pulling her bag up and over one shoulder. "But it won't take long to talk about the big nothing we've accomplished so far."  
  
After making arrangements to meet at an inconspicous diner the following day, the other three turned to leave. I watched them, somehow warmed just by the sight of them. It had been a long year, a hard year, and through my own stupidity I'd almost thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to me. I'd never had a family, not really. Darla, Spike, and Dru had been the closest thing to it, and warped and twisted didn't even cover my time with them. Buffy... Buffy had been special, but I'd always been on the fringes of the crowd in Sunnydale, a part of things only because of my association with her. This was different. *They* were different.  
  
And if my eyes lingered a little longer on the slim brunette in the middle... well, that was only because I'd known her longer. Known her better. At least, that's what I tried very hard to convince myself as I turned back to the casino.  
  
But when I finally got back to my suite a good hour later, it took only a few words from a harried phone call for that line of thought to fly right out the window.  
  
It was ringing when I opened the door, and I hurried to answer it. "Angel, where have you been?" Wesley's voice was clipped, and I felt my unbeating heart sink right down to my toes. "We've got a serious problem." 


End file.
